


011. Superstition

by fall_into_life



Series: 100 Prompts Table 30-A [11]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Blood and Injury, Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 08:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15659391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fall_into_life/pseuds/fall_into_life
Summary: Blake has an opportunity to give Adam mercy.





	011. Superstition

Adam Taurus lies at their feet, broken and bloody. He is dying.

Blake should care. She doesn’t. Not the way he would want her to. He’s been a disgusting person for a long time, and she can’t believe she ever took him as a lover.

“Blake…” His voice comes out as a rasp of a thing, and his hand struggles out in the direction of his weapon. It’s so close he can almost touch it despite a broken arm and at least two broken fingers. “Blake… please….”

Yang shifts uncomfortably at her side, and Blake doesn’t blame her. Adam sounds pathetic, slurring out her name through blood and chipped teeth. He hadn’t yielded to them, had forced them to break him. If he hadn’t burned the compassion out of her the second he took Yang’s arm, she’d pity him too.

“What… what does he want?” Yang asks, her left hand coming over to wrap around her right bicep.

“He’s from the old tribes,” Blake says. She can only hear her voice as if she’s listening through water, thick and distorted. “They believe that if they don’t die with their sword in their hands, they’ll go to hell.”

Adam strains to get a hand on his weapon, visibly ripping his wounds further open. Yang stares down at him.

“Do you… do you believe in that?” Yang’s voice breaks halfway through the question.

Blake looks down at Adam. He’s still handsome, somehow. She remembers how he used to talk about making the world a better place, remembers the gentleness in his eyes the first time they made love, remembers the way he used to mentor the younger faunus. He’s fallen a long way from then.

She moves her foot to toe the sword farther out of his reach. Enough that she knows he’ll never reach it, but not so much that he can’t still hope and strain and beg her to give it to him.

“Yes,” Blake says. “I do.”

They watch him struggle to reach his sword until the light fades out of his eyes.


End file.
